Chen Guangcheng: Rebel of the Year 2012

Guards routinely stole into Chen Guangcheng’s house, wrapped him in a blanket, beat him bloody, broke his wife’s bones. The blanket seemed especially gratuitous: Chen is blind. This went on for a year and a half, all because the self-taught lawyer had sued the Chinese government to stop forced abortions in his village. So one dark April night, he left it all behind. He scrambled over the wall of his courtyard, shattering his foot in the fall. Still, he eluded over sixty thugs patrolling his town by hiding in the rank filth of a pigsty. He alerted a team of sympathizers collaborators with coded messages from a smuggled cell phone; they picked him up and began the long drive to Beijing, where Chen shuttled among apartments, never spending two nights in the same place.

After a car chase—a car chase—he wound up at the American embassy, and found himself at the center of a swirling diplomatic drama. An embarrassed China wanted Chen back. A cautious U.S. wanted to play hero without affronting the Chinese. Chen wanted to stay until he didn’t, and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton had to step in and broker a deal to get him out of the country. "From the moment I climbed on the plane, I had this feeling—it’s hard to articulate clearly, but it was sorrowful," Chen says now. "Of course I want to go back. I will inevitably return to China, standing tall. I don’t think China can continue like this forever." In a GQ exclusive, Chen recounts his time as a humanitarian cause cél&#xE8;bre in the United States and adjusting to life in the slow, steady fade of the footlights that had burned so bright and hot in May.

On May 19, Chen Guangcheng landed at Newark Liberty International Airport on United Airlines Flight 88 from Beijing. He was met at the airport by Jerome Cohen, an old friend and co-director of the U.S.-Asia Law Institute at NYU, who arranged for Chen’s arrival in New York.

The plane had this kind of airtight smell, the scent of hermetically sealed space and air conditioning, a smell I really don’t like. The seat I sat in was especially high-class; it felt like real leather. The backs of the seats had these consoles where you could watch movies, play games, or listen to music, but I wasn’t really in the mood for that.

From the moment I climbed on the plane, I had this feeling—it’s hard to articulate clearly, but in general, it was sorrowful. After I got on the plane and had a short nap, I had a chance to think about a lot of things—love for my country, the things that had just happened, and things I would do in America—and in general I felt hurt.

Three American diplomatic officials accompanied me on the plane, two men and a woman. They had come to mind me, I guess because there was still some threat to my safety. A bunch of reporters had gotten on the plane when they found out I was leaving, and these officials would screen them for me, asking me if I wanted to be interviewed and for how long. At one point, an old friend who had planned to meet me on the plane came up and shook my hand. Of course, he asked, "Aren’t you happy to be leaving China?" "No, not really," I said.

The moment the plane landed and I was getting up on crutches—I still couldn’t walk, remember—all of the other passengers stood up and applauded. I was so moved: even they had never spoken to me, they knew who I was. At the same time, my heart was surging with emotion, filled with a million sighs. All these years, everything I’d been through—I originally hadn’t wanted to leave China, but this series of events forced me to, and I couldn’t help but feel hurt.

A contingent from NYU had come to meet me at the airport. After a State Department official picked me up in a wheelchair, they wheeled me to the car, and there were a couple awkward attempts to get me in the van. Jerry Cohen was there. We hadn’t seen each other in years, so we talked excitedly for a while. But the smell in the car, maybe something about the traffic on the highway, made me really carsick. I had a headache, and I was just waiting to throw up, though I didn’t until later that night, at home.

When he arrived at his new apartment at NYU’s faculty housing, Chen held an open-air press conference, his first ever.

I knew a lot of people were watching me the moment I stepped out of the van and everyone started cheering. They were applauding, whistling. People who knew me shouted my name. I hadn’t really prepared or knew what I was going to say, so I just spoke straight from the heart. I clearly knew that I had to thank all the people that had worked so hard for this result, for me to come to America. I don’t know if it was the best I could do, but at least it was honest.

A few minutes after I got to my apartment, lots of friends started bringing me flowers. I love flowers, especially fragrant ones. They brought me roses, China roses—but no jasmine! Jasmine is my favorite, because it blooms continuously, constantly giving people a sense of springtime. The new flowers will bloom as the old ones fall, which is a perfect metaphor for persistence in the tasks we wish to accomplish.

Another friend had sent me some oranges. I usually love to eat them, but I had a piece and was sick, vomiting until one in the morning. I don’t think it was related to my emotional state. I really think it was just the smell of the van.

On May 24, five days after arriving in New York, Chen gave his first American television interview to CNN’s Anderson Cooper. Chen said that during his detainment his "suffering was beyond anyone’s imagination" and revealed the identity of one his collaborators, Guo Yushan, a Beijing-based scholar who led the effort to find Chen in Shandong.

The biggest factor that day was carsickness. The ride from my home to the interview site gave me a terrible headache. That was the foundation for the whole day. I hadn’t really prepared. I don’t usually prepare for interviews, because if someone is going to ask me about my experience or my past, I think recalling it is simply enough and there isn’t much to prepare.

I recognized that mentioning Guo Yushan might put him in danger. But he was already in danger in Beijing, so I don’t think it added too much to his situation. Like I said, I was ill, so it wasn’t really CNN’s fault.

The same day, Chen’s brother, Chen Guangfu, escaped from the same village to go to Beijing, seeking legal help for his son and Chen’s nephew, Chen Kegui. Kegui had been disappeared and charged with attempted murder after defending himself against plainclothes police who had broken into his house looking for Chen. Four days later, Guangfu returned safely to Dongshigu.

I found out that my brother had escaped when everyone else did. A friend—I can’t say who—told me. I didn’t hear from Guangfu at first, so I had no idea what he was doing. It never got to the point that I was nervous. Chen Guangfu’s is a little crazy, and he would find a way out. Because my brother had been oppressed for so long and they had taken all his things—telephone, cell phone, whatever—he didn’t know what was going on with me, so when he broke out, at least he would be able find out about me and what had happened from my friends in Beijing. I wasn’t worried about the thugs’ beating him. Maybe if you have never experienced violence and suddenly were subjected to it, you would be afraid, but we had "danced with wolves" all day, so to speak, so there was nothing to fear.1

The matter of Chen Kegui worries me more. This is just another instance of the persistent persecution of me and my family. It’s also a symbol of the rule of law in China. I thought that if I leave Shandong, I myself would be punished. What right does the government have to do anything else? But if you are a local official, apparently you can gather a group of bandits, march on an innocent person’s house in the middle of the night carrying weapons, climb the wall to their courtyard, break open every door and window, destroy everything that person owns, and beat them black and blue. If Chen had not resisted, he would have been killed. In any other country you would be allowed to defend yourself, but in China you cannot get a fair hearing.

On May 31, Chen held a forum at the powerful Council on Foreign Relations in New York, his first major speaking engagement since arriving in the United States.

I remember the steps, just three steps to get up on this small stage in a hall that was not that big. I got the sense that everyone there was listening intensely. We talked a lot about me, my health, and of course human rights in China. It was one of my favorite experiences in the United States because the questions that were asked were well-informed and allowed me to express all the perspectives I wanted to. I wasn’t aware that the Council on Foreign Relations was especially influential. I don’t usually take that kind of thing into account. I only care about the degree to which an organization that wants my help cares about human rights or protecting rights in China.

I had read Daniel C. Chung’s article in TheNew York Times after my arrival in the United States, where he says that I should be careful about letting people exploit me to represent their interests. I appreciate his opinion, but I already have my own thoughts on this. If any person, organization, party—whatever—works to promote human rights and social justice, I will cooperate with them. Don’t call that exploitation. Because exploitation would be for individual benefit. If in general you feel like you can’t accomplish anything because someone tells you to do something, then what will you ever do? If your left hand wants to cooperate and is clasped by your right, is it being exploited? If your right hand comes to your left’s aid, is it being exploited? It doesn’t matter which hand is which. It matters what they are trying to accomplish.

1 "Dancing with wolves" or "Dances with wolves" is a Chinese idiom, though it was also used as the Chinese title for the 1990 film starring Kevin Costner.

By June, things had quieted down. Other than a few interviews, Chen was busy seeing friends and taking English lessons.

New York struck me as a pretty busy place: time is always tight and transportation is always a little crowded. It has a certain polluted smell, but there’s a certain marine scent from the river. The subway stations are hot and the trains don’t run on time. Democracies aren’t perfect!

My children were really excited to come to New York, but my wife and I knew there would be a lot to study and learn, and there was a lot to consider. For the first month or so I was here, my foot was still broken. I couldn’t walk and so I spent little time going out. Besides, I can’t really speak English, which makes it hard to adapt here. We may have come to America in May, but integrating into America would take over a month!

I went to the botanical gardens, I remember. That kind of place, resting, the pretty whispering voices, the mixture of floral scents, is what I really love. I love nature. As soon as I could walk even a little, in July, I wanted to go to the High Line2 . The two sides [of the track] are full of plants and flowers. It’s quite lovely.

I corresponded with Ai Weiwei3 a little bit over Skype. We’ve been friends for a while. The thing that he told me that I can’t easily forget was that, prior to my escape, activists and dissidents in China felt discouraged and powerless. But after what happened to me, they felt encouraged because their troubles seemed less than mine. Mr. Ai was probably just encouraging me, but I was really moved. We also discussed how China cannot continue on as a lawless society. This is a certainty of historical development. But how will it change? Will it change violently or nonviolently? The manner will be decided by a lot of factors, but change is certain.

Bob Fu4 was also in touch quite a bit. I had never talked to him until I was lying in a hospital bed in Beijing and he gave me a phone call. As soon we met, we became fast friends. I think he truly cared about my health. He knows the crimes I’ve suffered, the bitterness I’ve eaten, and really wanted me to recover. People know he is a really devout Christian, but he does a lot of work advancing human rights in China. It’s difficult to summarize what he does in one or two sentences.

Before a meeting of House leadership from both parties on August 1, Chen was introduced by Speaker John Boehner. It was his last major public appearance.

When they sat me in John Boehner’s office, they gave me this massive leather chair. I don’t really remember anything other than how comfortable it was. As soon as I sat in that chair, I thought, "This really is a different kind of place!" John Boehner didn’t say much. Nancy Pelosi visited me at my apartment earlier in the summer. I’ve had a good impression of Nancy Pelosi for years from the degree of her devotion to human rights causes in China. I feel like the room we were in was very big, but my friends told me, once the media got set up to take pictures, it was actually a little small.

I know Boehner and Pelosi might not agree [about which rights I represent]. I think I protect the rights of unborn children, the rights of women, and the rights of any citizen. Human rights are not just children’s rights or women’s rights. Men have rights. The elderly have rights. This is a human problem, a fundamental concept. I don’t think Mr. Boehner and Ms. Pelosi differ on this idea. They may promote rights from different angles, but I don’t think one-hundred-percent agreement is necessary.

Am I happy here? I think this is a difficult question to answer. It’s not that I’m unhappy in America, it’s just that I could have been happy wherever I had the freedom to do the work I want to do. This was the main reason I had to leave China: I couldn’t do what I wanted there. I don’t think that being in the United States diminishes my influence. Even in prison, I was able to do some second-order stuff that I never made public. I think influence is based on ability and a little luck, not where you are.

Do I have any regrets? No. What is there to regret? When I need to analyze a decision I’m about to make, I analyze the options based on my thoughts and opinions. I don’t just blindly make decisions, and this one was thought through. I don’t while away my time with regrets, just like I didn’t worry about danger in China.

Was this the best result? I don’t think so. The best result would be China really realizing constitutional democracy. I think the best result would be going to China or the United States because I wanted to and not because of circumstances. Of course I want to go back. But after a few days, I might want to leave again. I don’t think China can continue like this forever. Even if the government feels like they can disallow me from coming back, they won’t last forever.

In August, I went on vacation with my family to the beach in New Jersey. I love the ocean. I love to swim. I love nature. Our vacation was too short, though. I never really got used to being outside. A friend had given me a jasmine bush before we left. It was the only plant in the house then. But when we returned, it had died.

2 An abandoned elevated train track in Manhattan that has been converted into a public park.

3 Ai Weiwei, a GQ Man of the Year in 2011, is a Chinese activist and conceptual artist currently under surveillance at his home in Beijing.

4 Bob Fu is the controversial leader of the humanitarian organization ChinaAid, which supports Chinese Christians and advocates for evangelical causes in China. Chen attracted the ire of the Chinese government—and the support of Bob Fu—because he filed a class-action suit on behalf of women who had been forced to be sterilized or have abortions under China’s "one-child" policy.

Use of this site constitutes acceptance of our User Agreement (effective 1/4/2014) and Privacy Policy (effective 1/4/2014).The material on this site may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, cached or otherwise used, except with prior written permission of Condé Nast.